Miracle On Turpin Road
by indiefran
Summary: A Chryed Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

_**It's Christmas, so with Christmas comes not particularly sophisticated writing and references to vomit. It does in my world anyway. **_

_**This is a little story about Christian, Syed, and their first festive season together. It's not much, but a gift to all of you, regardless. Thoughts, as always, would be wonderful. Happy Santa day to all! **_

"Do you want me to hold your hair?"

A sequin draped angel dangling precariously above him, Syed leaned casually against the door frame.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," Christian said flatly.

Attempting half-heartedly to stifle the mirth that was threatening to ripple through him, Syed shifted his gaze to the steam of the mirror. He didn't want to laugh, but there was something about the sight of Christian's giant frame kneeling on the bathroom floor, embracing a toilet, that didn't seem to lend itself well to the solemnity that was being required.

"What exactly am I supposed to be taking seriously?"

"Oh I don't know, the fact that your boyfriend, your partner, _the love of your life_, is one hurl from losing his insides."

Brow furrowed, Syed tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.

"You know you've not actually been sick yet."

"I'm aware of that."

"You've just been crouched holding the toilet bowl…for about an hour."

"I like it," Christian said fondly, goose bump prickled arms draped around the porcelain. "It comforts me."

"And it looks so attractive."

"_Hush_. You are supposed to love me no matter what…"

"And I will," Syed promised earnestly. "Have a desire to rip your clothes off on the other hand…"

"…in _sickness_ and in health," Christian quickly inserted, throwing a petulant glance at Syed before re-finding his position.

"Pretty sure that refers to being loving towards someone in the old fashioned sense rather than sexual favours. Besides, _if I'm being technical_, we never did those vows. We're more modern inter-faith homosexual life partners than Christian institutionally-tied husbands."

"Plus…" he mused. "I think it means not abandoning them if they get dementia, or when it was written, the plague or something. It wasn't a reference to self-induced ethanol woes…or as the modern folk say, a bit of a hangover."

"Do not minimise my pain. We both know I've been poisoned."

"The only thing that you've been poisoned with is the common sense of a fourteen year old boy. Maybe you've caught idiot disease. Is that a thing?"

"Sorry I missed that bit," Christian swivelled around the tiles beneath him gingerly, leaning in to have a conversation with the toilet bowl. "A skull crushing pounding was rushing through my head just at the point where you were verbally abusing me. Be a dear and say it again."

"Idiots. As in _you_…and naturally Roxy. Or pretty much anyone who combines red shots, green cocktails, and egg nog. Even I know that's asking for disaster. And who drinks egg nog anyway."

Christian slumped back onto the base of his arse glumly, resting his hand over his mouth for effect.

"Fair point to both."

Syed shook his head sympathetically, pausing to give a supportive smile before shuffling over to kneel next to him, their legs entwining on the cold hard tiles. He could never stay fed up at Christian, something about the way he ironically did innocence so well and the fact he had never loved anyone more in his life.

"Do you feel properly poorly?" he asked, twiddling with the fluffs of hair at the nape of his neck. "That egg nog could have been off or anything. Does Roxy know how to use a fridge?"

"Yeah I taught her once," Christian sighed, leaning back into the comforting touch. "Wrote down the instructions with big letters and pictures."

"She might have lost them. I could call NHS direct. Does that still exist? I could try it, they probably have a holiday related mishaps department."

"'My hand's stuck up a turkey's rear and I kind of like it, what do I do…'"

"Haha yes, and you know, your more typical 'I didn't cook the turkey well and I don't like it, what do I do…' I'll get the phone."

Leaning up to move, Syed was stopped by the touch of Christian's hand on his.

"It's ok," he promised, bravely. "I don't want to make a fuss..."

Syed laughed softly.

"Of course not."

"Maybe something to eat would help. Do you think you could keep something down?" He mollified, rubbing the base of his back in soothing circular motions, enjoying the familiar curve of Christian's broad shape, warm under the cloth of his night-time tee. "I could make you some breakfast? Something greasy?"

Christian stroked his fingers appreciatively through Syed's bed ruffled waves. Guiltily, he considered that perhaps idiocy shouldn't be rewarded, but when Syed was in full nurturer mode, it was too cute to turn down.

"If you think it's a good idea, I could give it a go."

"_I could do_…fried eggs…and tomatoes that barely look like tomatoes, just how you like them. Throw those sausages in if you're really lucky…prove the lamb ones can be just as deliciously unhealthy, make them all fatty and sizzling…"

Christian's hand re-found its place over his mouth as he gagged. 'That'll teach you', he rebuked himself.

"Dry toast then?" Syed smiled, moving to get up.

"And some alka seltser would be amazing."

"Will do."

"And an egg," Christian inserted. "And maybe a sausage. Your special tomatoes, obviously. No mushrooms though, I don't want to push it."

"I think I can do that."

"Aww my angel," Christian grinned, lovingly.

"If you need me I'll be making a home on the bathroom floor…"


	2. Chapter 2

The faint shriek of snow hungry children and the seasonal melodies from the market stalls seeping in merged song through the window glass, Syed slopped another generous squirt of washing up liquid on the stubborn grease stains.

"Yum," Christian sighed contently, patting the fullness of his satisfied stomach. "That's loads better."

"I think your lovely food did it," he yawned, stretching languidly on the bed. "And the nap, like a medically induced coma, but induced by breakfast. You saved my life Sy, you're so clever."

"I do try," Syed grinned, turning from the sink to show the flash of pride in his lash brown eyes. "Though I doubt I saved your life…"

"Don't undersell yourself. I think I may have been dying."

"You were not going to die Christian."

"I could have done, you don't know. I could have been dead by Christmas," he declared, flouncing an arm melodramatically to the side. "How biblical."

"Easter," Syed corrected, "Birth in the stable at Christmas. Death and resurrection supposedly at Easter."

"All I heard there was erection."

"Well I'm just thankful I don't have to spend Christmas down Walford General, doing a bedside vigil."

"It'd be romantic though wouldn't it?" Christian asked wistfully, flopping onto his side to gain a better view. "Me in a polyester gown, you alternating between weeping into my pillow and building a shrine out of tinsel."

"Romantic and incredibly realistic", Syed concurred, wiping the suds off the scrubbed plate. "The shrine in particular."

"_Tinsel_ shrine."

"Sorry, _tinsel_ shrine. If I'm busy with a bedside vigil, how can I leave to buy it?"

'Even in hypothetical shrine games, he's practical', Christian smiled to himself.

"You go to the Children's ward and steal it from their tree," he explained, stretching each word slowly as if the solution were entirely obvious. "They start to cry but you don't care because you're overwhelmed by my sexy vulnerability."

"Are we now adding A and E to the list of places that turn you on?" Syed said low, raising an eyebrow.

"With you involved, the café toilet with Ian knocking on the door for a wee would turn me on."

"You say…the sweetest things."

"I know right," Christian grinned, holding his arm out for the groove of Syed's waist.

Complying happily with the request, Syed pressed his teeth teasingly into the curl of his lower lip and crossed the tempting path from the sink to the bed. Spotting the precarious wobble of a flailing angel above, he stopped his journey abruptly, jumping up to save it from an untimely death.

"I told you these things were crap," he strained, standing on tip toes to re-attach the tape. "They haven't even got a thread that sticks."

Mo had been pushing them onto anyone unfortunate enough to cross the market all week, and by the end of it, Christian had bought home three. Assuring a sceptical Syed that they were in no way stolen, he'd enthusiastically hung them to every door way, humming _Wham _over the murmur asking if he had actively searched for the gayest decorations he could find.

"It's a pink and gold fairy that sings 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' if you poke it, it does pretty much what it says on the tin Sy."

"Angel," Syed huffed, gaining a breath from the exertion. "And considering your usual standards, I thought you'd want more than…'does what it says on the tin'. They're quite hideous, and as you're always telling me, if I can tell that, that must mean they are really hideous."

"Don't say that, she'll hear. You'll hurt her feelings," Christian hushed, squinting his eyes to look up at the safely positioned angel, and whispering soothingly, "Don't worry, nasty Syed didn't mean it. He loves you, he's just a little shy about saying it, that's all."

Syed looked at him dryly. "Yeah, that's it."

"We should get nice new ones, from a shop."

"A shop? How outlandish."

"I can't believe I'm the one saying this. Considering your obsession with how this place looks, I'm amazed you let these things past the front door, let alone hung one on it."

"Furniture and art and stuff's for the whole year though," Christian mused, stretching back under the warmth of the sheets luxuriously. "Festive trimmings are for a couple of weeks, it's not that important…"

The words played over Syed's eyes, reflecting disappointment in their hue.

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Christian called out, Syed disappearing into the spare room. "We could go for a meal…now we've tested my stomach lining with grease. Take you out on a hot date. You might even get lucky," Christian winked as he came back into view, clutching clothes to his bare chest. "I'm _offensively_ easy."

"I take it you've made a full recovery then?"

"Think so. I don't want to speak too soon, but I'd say I was perking up quite a bit," he smirked, shuffling down the bed. "Well...more than a bit, but I don't want to brag."

Tilting his head to one side at the sight in front of him, Christian watched adoringly as Syed shuffled obliviously around the flat, top half down, jeans half up. Pulling a black fluffed jumper over his face, he was blind to the wandering green eyes leisurely tracing the flat of his stomach and the gentle flex of his lifted arms.

"That's great then," a newly visible Syed smiled.

"I thought so. Now how about you stop getting pointlessly dressed and get your cute arse back to bed."

"As tempting as that is…" he half contemplated, giving an encouraging tap to the feet dangling on the edge of the bed. "…we've got stuff to do today."

"We do?"

"We're getting our Christmas tree," Syed grinned, the smile reaching to light the deepest sparkle of his eyes.

"We are?"

"Yeah…you said yesterday. Your best friend Dagenham Dave's getting his in and we said we'd go before we were left with the scraps."

Christian played the words 'Dave' 'trees' 'scraps' around his mind repeatedly, hoping something would be jogged, and pretty quickly by the bemused expression staring out at him.

"_Oh_", he recalled suddenly, a memory of nuzzling up in bed, and conversation about turkey and trees slowly coming back to him, "Yeah…trees, of course." Pulling the quilt up luxuriously, he snuggled his sleepy body back down into the warmth of their bed. "Doubt they'll all have gone, that can wait…"

His heart sinking, Syed looked regretfully at Christian's back, turned in his cocoon happily with little eagerness to move.

"You said you wanted to go early..." he reminded, playing with the loose cotton on his jeans uneasily "…make sure we got a good one."

"Yeah but it's all cold out there and so warm in here, like toast...it's not like there's a rush is there."

'Hangovers and sex are emergencies but with this there's no rush,' he felt himself chastise, hurt turning to vex.

"It's just a tree, it doesn't matter does..."

"Well clearly no!" Syed snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Might as well just turn up on the 28th. It'll be brown and we'll have missed Christmas but at least it'll be cheap and involve minimal effort."

Christian lifted his head up, scrambling for words, alarmed at the change in tone.

"Sy…" he attempted.

"No you're right, I'm being stupid. You clearly couldn't care less so why should I?"

Christian could only gawp as, from the confusion of the bed, he helplessly watched Syed's back storm away. With the slam of the door, Christian winced and the welcome angel came crashing to the floor: the looming melody of 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' mocking the walls of the empty flat.


	3. Chapter 3

'Never storm out in winter', Syed rued sadly, wrapping his arms around his chilly coat-less chest.

Christian was right, it _was_ cold outside, and approximately four minutes after slamming the front door shut, Syed found himself questioning why exactly he was wandering, frozen, through the market alone, when he could be laying, warm in bed with the one he loved.

Rubbing the flimsy sleeves, Syed hugged himself as he stood. He had wandered barely several metres from the flat, a slow wander through the stalls with little destination, his feet refusing a pace that would drag him far from home. They were now refusing movement at all, it seemed, and had left him as if a vacant, staring, lost in the haze of a winter morning.

Cold to tingle, he could feel the edge of his nose pinking in the frost. He smiled, remembering four days ago, when in the walk from breakfast at the café, the same pink was on show. Christian had kissed it, declaring it to be the cutest thing he had ever seen, that he looked perfection in the sun but was beautiful in the snow. Syed had derided him for being cheesy, but, as the strong arms wrapped him to murmurs of "Stilton…and you bladdy love it," there was no part of blush that could disagree. His heart warmed at the memory. 'Maybe I should just go home, make up', he considered tenderly. 'I don't even know why I left.'

"Sorry mate!"

A gruff voice breaking his thoughts, Syed dodged as a stocky man brushed past him breathlessly, the green girth of seasonal foliage being hauled and heaved.

"It doesn't matter" he nodded, his heart ignoring him with an ache, as he watched the stranger amble down the street, dragging a large Christmas tree in his wake.

Syed shook his head, dejectedly, the image of their argument making his heavy brow frown. He didn't understand why Christian didn't care about any of it, why someone who got excited about the most mundane minor thing would be lethargic over this. Christian Clarke _was_ enthusiasm. He got excited by Saturdays, shower gel, chocolate spread… 'He's not enthusiastic, he's a nymphomaniac', Syed murmured, when considering the common link between the three. All he knew was, Christian was the sort of person that would grin from ear to ear in childlike eagerness, that would meet the level of hyper that made you want to hug him or kill him, that would jump up and down at 5am if he so wanted. 'Maybe that's it', he thought dolefully, 'he just doesn't want to'. Syed couldn't decide what was confusing him more – why Christian wasn't in the slightest bit bothered by Christmas, or why that made his own heart ache.

"Get out of my way you stupid elf!"

A tugging familiar Pakistani shrill sounded behind him, and he turned on instinct, the frost that wrapped the air suddenly that little bit warmer. Caught in the eternal tension of leaving or staying, he dipped to find the cover of the flower stall. Peaking behind a giant poinsettia, Syed watched as his mother preceded to have a scrap with an elf.

"You know if you're going to just stand in the middle of the road like that, perhaps you could remove that hat and you would see where you were going? I don't know if anyone ever told you but you look absurd."

The baffled pensioner froze open mouthed, adjusted his red felt proudly, and resumed shaking his charity bucket at ignorant passers-by. Absorbed by the shrinking back of his mum as she grumbled on her way, Syed heard the vague tap of a coin hitting the base and a grateful "thank you" as he made his way to the café.

"Just a tea please," he half smiled to Marie at the counter, failing badly in his attempts not to stare at her head. She nodded in acknowledgement and adjusted her antlers, a good natured victim of Ian's 'Christmas makes you spend more' strategy.

Slumping down in the secrecy of a corner seat, Syed felt grateful that at least it wasn't Jane. He had enough disturbing images of his sister-in-law in his head of late, he didn't need to add any bizarre ones.

Absentmindedly, Syed fiddled with a packet of catering brand sugar. He nudged it from one side of the table to the other, despondently, the store bough merriment of _The Worst Christmas Covers Known To Man _and the drone of Ian's moans filtering through the whir of his thoughts. Glancing up, he gave a sympathetic smile as an example of the Beale staff morale sweated towards him.

'Christian would love this', he thought to himself as the antlers teetered towards him, the dingle of a tiny bell ringing as Marie bent to place the tea down.

Maybe that was it, Christian was enjoying Christmas. He just wasn't enjoying Christmas like Syed was expecting him to, or for some reason he couldn't put his finger on, _needing_ him to. Things had been a bit difficult the past couple of weeks, he supposed. Not with Christian, that was still great, but with him, how he felt, where his head was. Speaking to his parents for the first time in five months, and not in the way that had played in the comfort of delusional dreams, had done something to him, made his emotions all over the place. He felt himself wanting to be physically near Christian, even more than usual, wanting to talk about mundane things that up until now had either held no fascination or had actively bored him. One minute he'd be starting conversations about seasonal recipes with Halal meat, the next his lips would be working their way down the soft sweat of Christian's throat, touching him, dragging him to bed. 'He must think you have a turkey fetish,' Syed shook his head in bewilderment at himself, with a sigh.

It was like he was attaching something strange to Christmas, all of this. He was being weird, he got that. He just didn't really know why or how to stop it. His slowly warming hands hugging the heated mug, Syed stared at the screen of his phone. Christian hadn't called, not even a text. 'You're weird', he muttered, 'and your boyfriend agrees'.

"What _are _you doin' in there?"

His muddled head dragged up by the sound of irate wines and the noisy hammer of repeated knocks, he blinked as an earlier fantasy came to life.

"I own this place and I need to use the facilities!"

Syed's lip found itself curling into the start of a smile, as Ian banged his way for entry on the toilet door.


	4. Chapter 4

Christian thumbed the remote control morosely, squashing himself into the poor comfort of the sofa cushions. It had been eight minutes since Syed had left. Or so the Sky box said. It felt decidedly longer, and he was pretty sure the clock was broken – or was lying in order to make him feel as pathetic as possible. The flash of the screen reflecting back on him, he flicked despondently from one thing to the next, rejecting 24 news – 'Life is shit, deal with it' – and a romantic comedy – 'Shut up' – miserably.

He threw the control behind him sullenly, the ache emanating from his insides doing little to shift his sulk. He told himself that it was the grease, those lamb sausages turning out to be as unnatural as he suspected and joining with the egg nog to start a war against his stomach lining. He couldn't quite ignore the voice that told him he knew full well that the ache was coming from another organ somewhat higher up, and the cause was something more important than breakfast.

Pulling his legs to scrunch them up to his chest, Christian fidgeted as he felt something long and hard press into his backside. 'Oh it's you again' he vexed, squinting his eyes suspiciously. Pulling the remote out from the cushions with enough force to make the channel involuntarily change, he looked up to the sound of sleigh bells.

'I wanted to show Syed this film', he moped regretfully.

Christian was aware Syed was a Muslim, not a Martian, and that even with a Grinch like Zainab as a mother, he'd probably seen it and a bunch of others before, but he had wanted to show him it anyway. Reading the film listings in the _Radio _Times last week, he had made a plan to be incredibly annoying and point out Santa in every scene, saying "that's Santa" and doing the same for reindeers, trees, and anything covered in glitter. He had thought by the time he'd got to "and we call that a Christmas present", Syed would have pinned him to the sofa, one hand over his mouth, the other starting to beat him. He had hoped so anyway.

'It's nowhere near as good without Syed. Nothing is,' he thought glumly.

A few minutes in of Richard Attenborough talking through a magnificent beard, Christian was sure Syed would have really liked this. He thought of how Syed would have argued that they should be watching the black and white version, and how he'd have kissed him mercilessly, telling him Christmas was no time for pretension. 'He'd tell me he thought I'd feel more at home with the original 'cos I probably watched it as a child', he smiled forlornly.

Spotting a classic 90s quiff on the screen, he threw lame insults at the characters, hoping it would make him feel better.

"Your hair looks ridiculous man."

It didn't. It only made things worse. 'Sy's hair is heavenly,' he half sobbed.

"No six year old talks like that."

Even insulting a little girl wasn't helping. 'You are such an arsehole', he moaned, shaking his head. Christian comforted himself with the fact that said little girl was probably twenty five by now, and being fictional, couldn't hear him. It didn't do much about Syed though. He was twenty five too, but though thankfully very real, tragically did hear him. 'I should call him' he thought, remorsefully. The thing was, Christian couldn't remember what he'd said and wasn't actually sure what he'd done. In fact, the more he thought about it, he was pretty sure Syed had been the one yelling and storming out when he was the one practically dying on the bed.

Poking his mobile down the sofa arm with the sulking shove of his index finger, Christian threw himself into the cushions in protest. 'I didn't even do anything', he grumbled.

Delving morosely into the comfort of self-pity and cushioning, he jumped as piercing noise broke the air, the whirring of the fire alarm penetrating the flat.

Startled, he flipped his head to see the source of the racket, turning with panic to see smoke billowing from the oven, the beginnings of black cloud filling the room.

"Shit!"

Rudely awoken foot collapsing onto rudely awoken foot, Christian clambered from the sofa to the kitchen in a few ungainly panicked leaps.

The shrill sound ringing his already pounding head, in haste, he grabbed for the cooker door.

"Fuck shit ow!"

Leaping back at the painful singe, he shook his burnt fingers in a frantic bid to soothe them, dancing manically on the spot.

Spotting the oven mits on the counter through the haze of the smoke, he made a grab for them, lurching to the oven and clanging the guilty tray up and out.

Christian coughed, surveying the mess.

Smoke clearing, his thumping heart calmed, his clouded mind re-finding its way to basic thought.

Sensing an unfamiliar softness and the hints of red fur out the corner of his sight, slowly, he looked down at his hands, his eyes squinting.

'Why do we have Santa shaped oven gloves?' he bemused, his brain tracing last night to gauge the likelihood of having made a drunken siege on a grotto.

The warning in his gut suggesting part of him knew it was best not to look, cautiously, he leant to peak at the worktop. His chest sank. There, lying in the smoke filled tray, sat the remnants of little pastry parcels, the blackened bits of lovingly made, dead mince pies. Resting casually against the bread bin was a note, the hand written scrawl tugging at Christian's heart.

_A seasonal hangover cure for the man passed out on the bed. Love S x p.s. You're drooling but I still would – even without a vow. _

'You _are _an arsehole,' he groaned.

Bringing his hand up to drag it along his shame ridden face, he felt Santa's nose brush his own. "Oh for crap's sake…" he exhaled, pulling them off with force.

He stood there, smoke filtering away, the enthusiastic alarm still sounding out. Christian couldn't help but think, through the dull ache of his heart, the alarm wasn't so much screeching "Fire! Fire! Fire!" as "Twat! Twat! Twat!" He considered for a second getting a custom made one, a clanger to sound whenever his boyfriend skills needed it. It would probably be too subtle. Apparently, he was pretty dense…and the problem went far beyond his sense of smell. As if the past few weeks seeing Syed's family re-ignoring him, and his need for the comfort of family ritual and intimate loving touch wouldn't have some correlation. 'Twat', he chastised.

'What did you think? You were just too good to resist or he's turned on my festive meat?'

Frustrated, Christian sighed.

Staring sorrowfully at the corpses of seasonal treats and the chipper grins of novelty kitchen accessories, he shook his head at himself, and ran to get dressed.


	5. Chapter 5

Hearing the longed for rattle of the lock, Christian stilled, his fiddling ceased, his puffed breath halted, and he turned to watch, as the door quietly opened.

It had been five months and still, to Christian, the sight of Syed walking through that door was in a way, mesmerising. He could have left for something routine like Mosque, or mundane like buying milk, it barely mattered…that he would go and then turn his key and he would be home, to Christian, elevated the most humdrum event to exhilaration. This time it wasn't quite so mundane though, by the dip in the pit of his stomach, this turn of the lock felt that little bit different. Syed had left, sort of actually left, and now he had come home.

Wordlessly, Christian looked at him. Thick waves slightly wayward from the breeze and skin pinked with the smallest of frosts, he found himself hoping he hadn't been wandering in the cold.

His hands shuffling in his pockets, slowly, Syed lifted his gaze. An unexpected sight caught in the corner of his eye, his heart flustered and a shy smile curled at the side of his lips.

"I really like mince pies," Christian heard himself say, the nervous silence breaking.

"Yeah?" Syed smiled warmly, feeling himself relax in watching Christian's mind visibly trace over the nonsense he had previously said. He loved Christian for how he could make him laugh, laugh freely, open, like no other ever had. He loved him more for sensing when his nerves needed it though, for knowing when he was feeling closed off or shy.

"Yeah, don't get excited though…I mean I would have _loved_ yours but…" Christian said sheepishly, "…as you can probably smell, we had a bit of an accident."

"An accident?" Syed echoed anxiously, surveying Christian for signs of injury.

"No, just…in the sense that I didn't know you were making them until the fire alarm went off and I almost burnt the flat down."

"Oh my…I'm sorry," Syed rushed, "When you fell asleep after breakfast, I thought I'd… They were meant to be a surprise, but I forgot to mention it, you know…with the whole…storming out thing," his voice drifting at the end.

Thoughtfully, Syed's heavy eyes examined the carpet lying beneath his feet. His lashes creating patterned beauty on his frost blushed cheek, Christian's thumb twitched, longing to rest under the stubbled dip of Syed's chin.

"I'm really sorry," Syed murmured, his dark eyes lifting up.

"It's fine, _really_. It was quite exciting…I got to play fireman, which after recent events shouldn't still excite me, but there you go. With all the chip fat downstairs, it probably would have caused an explosion."

"As he crawls from the wreckage with a make-shift fireman's outfit on, screaming melodramatically to a dumb struck Ian, 'It was the mince pies!'"

"Haha yeah."

Both grinning, they laughed, the other's mirth warming their own. The remnants of Christian's chuckle seeping away, the silence returned to an awkward lengthy pause.

"And I mean…" Syed said slowly, "I'm really sorry for storming out."

"You don't have to be," Christian hushed, wanting to tell him that if he was better at saying the words it was him who was sorry, that the last thing in the world he wanted to hear was Syed utter it.

"No I am," Syed pressed. "I don't know why I did, I have no idea what's wrong with me," he sighed, throwing his keys onto the sofa arm wearily. "Things have just been…I don't know, just a bit…weird recently…_not with you_," he rushed, "…just, the stuff with my dad. I know you don't think it's a big deal but it felt it to me and…speaking to them again, and that going predictably horrendously, it just…messed with my head a bit, I guess."

"Why wouldn't it? I should have thought Sy…" Christian said, shaking his head.

There were times he would look in the dark, complex hue of Syed's eyes and wish they were a little clearer, even now. They showed more peace and were more open than they ever were, than Christian could ever have dreamt before. Sometimes though, he wished he could understand better, wanted to slap himself for not getting it, more often wanted to slap the world for making things difficult enough that they needed understanding.

Adoringly, he looked at Syed, his lip bitten softly in his attempt to form the right words. Sometimes, he knew, Syed deserved things just to be easy.

"Christian…," he sighed, "…you shouldn't. I barely understand what I'm thinking at the minute, I don't expect you to."

He walked a few steps further into the flat, Christian's feet instinctively doing the same.

"I think I just had this whole big Christmas plan in my head, like our first one together had to be perfect or something. I felt sort of good when I was thinking about it, weird, obviously, but kind of good. I wasn't thinking about being away from them, and I was thinking about being closer to you…which always makes me feel better. This isn't making any sense…"

"It is, tell me. Please."

Syed pursed his lips thoughtfully, fingers drawing an orderly pattern on the sofa top.

"It kind of felt like this could be one thing that it didn't matter that we were different, which I guess is ironic considering I'm a Muslim attempting to celebrate the birth of the son of God, but it's no more about that for you as it for me, and I guess I thought if I really got into it, if we went down the tick list of Christmas or whatever, we'd find something that could be ours to share together, properly, like this would be _ours_, and right now, I really needed that." He shifted his gaze, as if he'd given himself away. "It's stupid…"

Urgently, Christian moved forward, pulling Syed close, wrapping his arms around his back and waist.

"_No_ it isn't. It is so far from stupid Sy. It's the sweetest thing I ever heard."

"It didn't seem sweet when I worked myself into it," Syed mumbled into the warmth of Christian's shoulder. "It felt quite manly actually…"

"Oh incredibly, that too," Christian gently laughed, moving to stroke a restless dark wave that sat disobediently over Syed's eyes. "You are my family Sy…obviously we've got our own too, and the delightful sods are hardly uncomplicated, but _this_, you and me, this is everything."

Slowly, he smoothed his thumb over the red of Syed's parted lips, "And for the record, I don't care in the slightest that we're different, in fact…I kind of love it. I went out with myself off and on for twenty years. I was incredibly good looking but it got somewhat tedious."

Syed's lips curled widely and Christian's followed in hearing the familiar soft laugh.

"I know I was a miserable sod earlier, but in the hours when I'm not hung-over or wanting to vomit I am really looking forward to being there for your, _our_ first Christmas, I promise."

"I know…really, I do. This is just all…" Syed shook his head, laughing gently in bewilderment "I don't care about seasonal napkins or flicker versus non-flicker fairy lights, I couldn't care less. The thought of a Christmas tick list makes me want to have a little nap more than anything. I just went insane for a bit…"

"Hey hey, we'll have no more bad-mouthing of Christmas tick lists thank you…mainly because I had somewhat of a brilliant one myself."

"_You_ did?"

"Yup," Christian grinned proudly, tightening his hold on Syed's waist.

"What exactly was on this list?"

"Mmmm, various items…finding you a Santa to sit on, he'd love it, dirty old perv…serenading you with Maria Carey's greatest Christmas anthems…"

"Oh I'd enjoy that…"

"I know you would. Having endless conversations about giblets, eating mince pies off you naked…"

"And then you go and burn the mince pies," Syed teased mournfully, stroking his fingers along the ridged cotton of Christian's side.

"I know, I could kill myself. I'll go to the Minute Mart later, get some shop made but without black bits."

"Picky…"

"Only the highest standards for you. I mean it Sy, I cannot wait for Christmas with you. I should have thought…and I was a complete moany arsehole earlier."

"Never", Syed murmured into the heat of Christian's lips. "You were poisoned…and I thought you were a soldier."

Syed's nose nudged the softness of the skin a breath from his, and his lips pressed forward, the warmth of Christian's mouth widening to take them, to feel the firm soft comfort of his taste.

Until Syed, Christian had never understood how a kiss could mean anything more than simply sex, the thrill of shallow heat, of animal want. The flick of his tongue chasing the love of familiar caress, he couldn't understand how he had ever settled for anything less.

Dragging their lips apart but their bodies remaining entwined, Syed exhaled with a gentle grin, "Is this where I point to the elephant in the room?"

"_Reindeer_ Sy," Christian teased in his finest patronising voice. "We don't have elephants at Christmas, we have reindeer."

"And we also have forestry by the looks of it."

Foreheads joined, together they moved their gaze to where the table once was, standing in silence to survey the slightly wonky sight of a proudly standing, enormous Christmas tree.


	6. Chapter 6

Leaning up to appraise his work, Christian nodded proudly.

"I figured you deserved at least a quarter of a forest…this is what I could lug up the stairs single handed."

Syed smiled broadly.

"Impressive."

"I thought so," Christian said, threading his hands together and stretching the fingers back histrionically in satisfaction.

Undetected, Syed's eyes traced over him, taking in each miniscule sign of the hour's exertion. He bit his curling lip at the chequered ruffle of Christian's shirt, the barely noticeable tufts of hair on the nape of his neck rucked out of their usual order. 'My own personal lumberjack,' he thought, admiringly.

"Did you get that for me?" he asked softly.

"No I got it for the elf community I keep under the bed. Course I got it for you, you soft sod," Christian laughed, pulling Syed to him with his arm wrapped around the soft waves of his neck.

"You, _us_. You were right, a tree is a vital element of existence this time of year. I turned down about eight others, I told Dave only the best for you, he says hello, and then he showed me this one, and I knew it was our tree, and only partly because of the five moaning women in the queue threatening to kill me. I saw it and thought 'this is the one'."

"The one, huh?"

"Sometimes you just know," Christian murmured, pausing at Syed before shifting his gaze back to peruse his toil. "You know I don't like to brag…but I am pretty sure this is the greatest tree of all time."

"Only pretty sure? I think once you've done a sample of nine you could be sure you've found the _definite_ best Christmas tree."

"No, any tree," Christian corrected. "Even better than palms, and definitely better than a shrub. No contest there."

"No contest," Syed smiled, leaning to look up at his shining eyes. "_Thank you_," he breathed, stroking a soft, chased kiss on Christian's lips. "You didn't have to you know…"

"I wanted to, you know why. They tell you to say it with flowers. I thought I'd go one further and say it with a bloody enormous tree."

Blush forming, Syed bobbed his head and smiled, taking a moment's pause before reaching his hands out to gauge the seismic width of the towering tree.

"That is certainly a very big one," he nodded.

Christian grinned.

"Well I like to think so."

"I mean huge, the biggest I ever saw."

"How many have you seen?"

Christian coughed distractedly, the words having left his mouth at a slightly higher pitch than he had hoped.

"Dad would get a tiny one some years, and in school and shops obviously. I think this might be bigger than Harrods'…"

"_Yeah_…" he considered, watching as, obliviously, Syed squeezed himself through the non-existent space between the sofa back and the protruding needles. "I might have over compensated… For being an arse, obviously, nothing else."

"Obviously."

His fingers sightlessly reaching out to stroke the edge of Christian's resting hand, Syed stood settled in the tiny gap, craning his gaze up to inspect the closer view.

"Well I think it's perfect."

"You do? Really?"

"Yeah. If it gets too much we'll just get rid of all the furniture until January."

"And live in the branches like tree people?"

"Well I was thinking more on blankets on the floor, but that works too."

"Oh I don't know…I like the sound of that," Christian grinned, tightening his hold on Syed's hand to pull his body from the greenery's grasp.

"You, me, a blanket, and a giant tree?" Syed murmured with a smile, tracing his fingers along the firm strength of Christian's arm. "I might not have had much experience with this…but that sounds like a pretty good Christmas to me."

"Perfect. …Though maybe throw in the highlights of the Christmas tick list, you don't want to _entirely _forget the list."

"Giblets?"

"Excuse me?"

"You want to talk about turkey giblets now?"

"If that does it for you…but I was thinking more the mince pies…" Syed felt the brush of Christian's cheek and the warm breath as he whispered low in his ear, "And the licking them off of you."

"I thought they were all burnt?" Syed asked, low, stroking his stubble to purr on the warm skin. "No leaving for trips to the shop for you right now, thank you…not even for that."

"It is a pretty easy going list, a more ad hoc approach."

Feeling the tingle of both breaths hitch, Christian dragged his lips to draw a line down from the soft lobe.

"Yeah?"

"Mmmm, I'm pretty sure I could substitute most things for mince pies. Imaginary ones would do…" he breathed, pressing a heated damp, slow kiss into the soft dip of Syed's neck.

"I'd have to agree," Syed gently laughed, stroking his free hand up to the base of Christian's head, dragging the tips of his fingers through scalp and tufts as he sank into the feel of warm lips continuing their caress.

Feeling the communicative squeeze of soft grip on his neck, Christian allowed himself to be pulled to be seen, to on instinct, move his kiss to Syed's waiting parted mouth.

The tender caress of intimate heat wrapping its way in nips and strokes, for Syed, the rest just fell away, his tongue begging its way to the flick of Christian's soothing tongue, the gentle moans of joined keens humming through his skin.

Trailing his hands up the scrunched wool of Syed's sides, breathlessly, Christian broke the kiss to expose the longed for sight of golden bare chest. Arms wrapped, he held him, Syed lost in the feel of naked flesh against the cloth of Christian's shirt and the tender strength of his grasping hands.

"You're cold", Christian murmured into the dip of Syed's throat, his hand stroking the chilled soft base of his tingling back.

"_Not anymore_."

**Merry Christmas everybody! I hope a story with vomit, fluff, jokes, angst, more fluff, and sex was a decent present for all tastes. Huge thanks for all reviews so far, they have been gorgeous. xxx **


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